


Analyze

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:55:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22119022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Connor’s so disgusting sometimes.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 8
Kudos: 157





	Analyze

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It figures that when Hank finally gets home to his rundown, blessedly _quiet_ house in just his own company, he still thinks of _Connor_. He complains all day about having to drag an android around, and the second he tastes freedom, his mind whirls right back to the blue light on Connor’s temple whirring yellow. Sometimes he swears he can see the sentience in Connor’s brown eyes—the depth too pure for any machine, the compassion and _emotion_. He’s absolutely certain that Connor’s fond of him. He doesn’t show Connor much more than base affection himself, but when he’s standing over the toilet with his dick pulled out of his boxers, _Connor’s_ the only person Hank thinks of. 

Hank strokes his cock to the image of Connor strolling up to him, slickly dressed in the usual grey suit, collar buttoned all the way up and tie neat around his throat. Hank thinks of _sullying_ that—pulling the tie away and maybe using it to tie Connor’s hands to the headrest in Hank’s car—making him _stay put_ for once. Hank daydreams about popping all Connor’s buttons open, spreading the crisp white fabric apart to reveal all the creamy skin beneath. Hank never goes out of his way to see naked androids, but he’s seen them anyway. It’s hard to distinguish man from machine on porn sites. He’s never seen Connor’s model naked, but he can guess. He can imagine what Connor must look like with his meticulously brushed hair disheveled from heated fingers brushing through it, more than just those few dark brown strands down against his forehead. Hank wonders if Connor can blush. If his pupils dilate. If he’s as anatomically correct as CyberLife claims and if he can _come_ —if his seed’s a milky white or just an empty, clear slick—

Hank grunts and shoots his load right into the toilet bowl. His hand’s too close to the tip, and some of the mess splatters his palm. He pumps himself out anyway, still scrunching his eyes closed and pretending he’s coming all over Connor’s pretty face. He doesn’t understand why CyberLife sent him such a goddamn _loveable_ partner. 

The bathroom door was already ajar, but it suddenly springs open. Hank nearly jumps out of his skin. He prepares to scold Sumo, but instead, Connor’s standing there, clothes slightly rumpled like he crawled through an open window. Hank sure didn’t leave his doors unlocked. 

Hank barely gets out, “What the _fuck_ are you doing here?”

Connor’s eyes flicker down to Hank’s wilting dick, then the liquid in Hank’s raised hand. They widen a fraction before he straightens out and asks, “I’m sorry, Lieutenant. Did I come at an inappropriate time?”

Hank splutters. Of _course_ Connor did. It’s always an inappropriate time. Hank’s not even safe in his own home. He feels like he’s being haunted by an irritating but weirdly sexy ghost. 

He doesn’t want to explain jerking off to that ghost, so he lies, “No. I was... it’s hair gel.”

Before Hank can stop it, Connor’s stepped forward and scooped two fingers through the mess in Hank’s palm. Hank watches, horrified, as Connor brings it to his lips and licks it away. 

He smacks his lips for a moment and then announces, “No, that is your semen.”

Hank’s pretty sure his whole face is red. He forces himself to lurch towards the toilet paper and wipe the rest away. He has just enough sense to pull his boxers back up before he storms through the doorway. On his way out, he barks, “Jesus Christ, Connor, don’t eat my cum!”

Halfway to the bedroom he stops and adds, just in case, “...Without my permission!”


End file.
